This selfsame spirit aforetime
Did mighty Antilochus bear:
For his father’s sake did he dare
That Aethiop chief’s death-stroke
When Memnon prevailed in the war-time.
For trammelled was Nestor’s yoke
By the steed on the red earth lying
By the arrow of Paris shot.
Ever nearer was havoc wrought
By the lance that Memnon was plying;
And the sire to his son spake, crying
For help, being terror-distraught.